


Stone Hearts

by PlanetsBendBetweenUs



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cannon Divergent, Captain Swan - Freeform, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hypothetically, So much angst, and some feelings, but if you hang in there you'll get some smut, cs smut, figurative death, it turned out more violent than I planned, just gone away a while, lots of swearing, not actual death, not forever death, oh and violence, this is gonna be a dark one folks, this ones gonna hurt, with your angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9890513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlanetsBendBetweenUs/pseuds/PlanetsBendBetweenUs
Summary: Emma should have known. She should have known that they couldn’t just go to the underworld and not suffer any consequences. She should have known they’d bring something back with them.Cannon Divergent after 5x21 Last Rites. No Hyde. No serum. No Evil Queen split. No prophecy. No season 6.Rated E eventually.





	1. Chapter 1

Fuck the underworld. Seriously, fuck Hades and his unfinished business and his lost souls and his monsters. Fuck it all. And while you’re at it fuck magic, and fairy tales and promises of happy endings. And most of all, fuck hope. Hope was the worst of it.

When Emma was a little girl she’d grown up on stories of hope, let herself believe that one day she would find happiness, that her family would find her and they would love her and she would finally have a home. As she grew older she’d hardened to the reality of the world, come to realize that hope was nothing but a cruel lie put in place to set you up for heartbreak and disappointment. So she’d given up on hope. She’d accepted that this was her life at it was as good as it was going to get. Nobody was coming for her and for a long time she was okay with that. Maybe not happy, but she’d found a level of satisfaction that she could live with. She had a good job, a nice apartment and the occasional one night stand to fill the dull ache inside of her for a night when it became too much to bear.

But then one day, a ten year old boy in a pea coat with hope spilling out of his ears showed up at her door and turned her world upside down. She’d fought it for a long time but eventually his tenacity had wormed its way into her heart and left just enough room for hope to be smuggled in. And just like that she’d begun to believe again. She’d found her family and a home and the hope had grown and she’d truly believed that just maybe, maybe, she could have her happy ending.

And then she’d met Killian. Loyal, passionate, understanding, steadfast, beautiful, _frustrating_ , Killian. He had never been short on belief – not when it came to her. While Henry may have wormed his way into her heart, Killian fought his way in, scaling walls a mile high and breaking down the door until she finally, truly believed that she could have a happy ending, and love. And not only that she _could_ have it, but that she _deserved_ it. And she’d gotten it. With him and Henry – and their whole weird family tree – she’d gotten her happy ending. Despite all the monsters and villains and deaths that they faced, Emma never gave up hope that they would defeat them. Together.

And they’d been happy. For six months. Six months after she had gone to literal hell to get her true love back. Six months of peace, of no villains or monsters or catastrophes. Of no Grumpy running and shouting, interrupting intimate moments. Just love and happiness and normality and hope.

And then it had all come crashing down.

Emma should have known. She should have known that things could never have been so calm in a place like Storybrooke. She should have known that during those six months the latest bad guy of the week had been lying in wait, plotting. She should have known that they couldn’t just go to the underworld and not suffer any consequences. She should have known they’d bring something back with them. She should have known because she wasn’t from some mystical land like her parents were. She was from the real world where life always screws you over right when you’re at your happiest. It had done it her whole life and she should have known it would do it again. People like her didn’t get happy endings and if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in fucking _hope_ she would have seen it coming.

So yeah. Fuck hope. Hope is how she ended up here, in a hastily made camp in the ruins of what used to be the library with the only three people she cared about still left. Maybe camp was an overstatement. Really all it was was a rucksack each, filled with a change of clothes, some food and a memento or two they couldn’t bear leaving behind, a camping stove and the odd pot, and as many weapons as they could find or fashion. It was just a place to sleep really. To hide for a few days until it got too risky and they had to move again.

Emma sat, watching Henry eat some kind of cold seafood out of a can with his fingers, her hand on the knife at her hip. Her eyes kept darting between him and the broken table-top they had used to block off the little shelter they’d built between some bookcases and the stairs to the clock tower should they need to stand their ground and fight. Guilt washed over her as she took in his ripped up shirt and jeans. His coat was getting too small for him at the rate he’s was growing and he was forced to wear it draped over his shoulders against the chill of the night. She should have taken him out of here when this had all started. But she’d let him convince her with his speeches about heroism and doing the right thing and being the savior and she’d kept them in Storybrooke until it was too late and the town line once again became a prison. He was too young to be living like this, facing these hardships, watching the people he loved be picked off one by one. She couldn’t save any of them now. She should have saved him.

She jumped when she heard footsteps on the other side of the entrance, knife out in a second. Henry was on his feet with the gun she’d had to teach him how to shoot at fourteen years old held at the ready, canned food forgotten at his feet. _He shouldn’t have to live like this._

“It’s just us,” came David’s voice from the other side. Neither of them dropped their weapons as the makeshift door slid open and David and Ruby walked in.

“Shut the door and drop your weapons,” Henry commanded once they were in view. His hand was steady on the gun and Emma’s heart lurched at the sight.

Ruby and David did as they were told, replacing the wood slate then dropping the sacks they had been carrying on the ground before  getting to work divesting themselves of their weapons. David had his sword and two guns – one in his holster and one in the back of his pants. Ruby had a bow, and a quiver of arrows, a small dagger and, well, the wolf thing. Once the weapons had clattered to the ground Henry spoke again.

“Okay, Mom, go ahead, I’ve got them,” he said, gun still fixed on his family.

“Right.” Emma put her knife back in her belt and made her way over to them, arms outstretched. Both winced in anticipation as she took a deep breath before plunging a hand into each of their chests. Ruby let out a gasp and David grunted in pain as she ripped their hearts out of their bodies.

“Fuck!”

“You’d think it would hurt less each time but nope,” Ruby said. “Each time’s as bad as the last.”

Emma took a look at the hearts, both bright red and semi-translucent, not a spec of stone to be seen. “They’re clear,” she told her son over her shoulder and he finally lowered his weapon. Then, with little ceremony she shoved both hearts back into their respective chests.

“Hurts just as bad going back in,” David said with a smirk at Ruby.

“Yeah, must be nice to have non-removable hearts,” she joked, looking at Emma and Henry.

“Grandpa!” Henry practically threw himself at David, knocking the wind out of him but David didn’t falter, wrapping his grandson in his arms and squeezing tight. “Sorry about the gun.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, taking Henry’s face in his hands. “I’d have my heart ripped out a million times and have a gun pointed at me just as often if it means keeping you and your mom safe. So don’t you ever be sorry, you hear me?” Henry nodded.

“Feels like it’s coming up on a million times,” Ruby said mirthfully, rubbing her chest before getting her own hug from Henry.

Emma just watched them, picking up the bags her father and her friend had dropped.

“We didn’t get much,” David said, bending down to help her. “The store’s on a constant watch now and we didn’t want to risk going more than a few blocks with the patrol as heavy as it is.”

Emma shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We need to move again. Tonight.”

“What? Why?” Ruby demanded.

“Henry noticed them hovering.”

All eyes turned to Henry. “It’s true. There was a group of them… Archie, Jefferson and Ashley. They were straying from the usual patrol, coming closer and closer to the library and sticking around a little too long,” he explained.

“Point is they’re on to us so we need to pack up our stuff and get out of here. I’ve been saying for weeks that we need to get to the woods,” Emma grumbled, dividing the newly procured food equally between the rucksacks (Maybe she gave a little extra to Henry but nobody was going to say anything about that).

“They have the border to the woods surrounded,” Ruby reminded them.

“Yeah. So we just need to get in and then as long as we keep moving they’ll have a harder time finding us,” Emma retorted.

“Emma,” David started gently, “getting in and out for food and supplies will be more dangerous if –”

“Then we hunt!” Emma snapped. “Get your stuff together. We need to go now while we have darkness on our side and –”

“Well, well, well, isn’t this sweet.”

Four heads snapped to the entrance of the shelter where Snow White stood, leaning against the bookcase, her voice taunting. In her hands was the sheriff’s riffle. It looked out of place where a bow usually belonged.

Four sets of hands reached for their weapons but Snow was quicker, her rifle raised and pointed at David before he could get his off the floor.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Snow chastised, nodding at Emma’s raised hands. “You reign in your magic or I’ll blow Daddy’s brains right out of his charming little head. Think you can get me before I pull the trigger?” Emma narrowed her eyes, hatred for this thing that had become her mother seething out of her. Snow smiled and it made her stomach turn. “Want to try?” Emma waited a beat. She glanced at David, who looked at her over his shoulder, the gun an inch away from his nose. He nodded his head, a silent conversation passing between them quick enough for nobody else to notices it and she held her hands up in surrender.

“Ruby, Henry, drop your weapons.”

“Good girl,” Snow said. “Now –” In a flash David had knocked the riffle out of Snow’s hands, catching it and whipping it around to smash the side of her head with the butt. Snow crumpled to the floor.

David knelt beside his unconscious wife, brushing the hair off her forehead, wincing a bit at the blood that matted it. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“Grandma,” Henry started taking a step towards them but Emma stopped him, throwing a hand out.

“Stay away from her, Henry!” she warned, her tone leaving no room for argument. She took a deep breath, steading herself for what she knew they had to do, what she knew no one else had the guts to say. Fuck hope. “We need to kill her.”

“Emma!” Ruby shouted at the same time as Henry shouted “Mom!”

“She’s your mother!” David insisted, subtlety shifting so that he was blocking Snow from Emma’s view and reach. 

“No she’s not! We know she’s not! None of them are anymore!”

“Mom –”

“No, Henry. We tried. We spent months trying to get them back. How many spell books did we pour through? How many of them did we try to get through to? We have to face it. None of them are coming back. Not Snow.” She looked at David, who squared his shoulders. “Not Granny.” Ruby looked at the floor, avoiding her gaze. “Not –” She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

Henry’s hand came around her shoulders. “Mom… we don’t know that he –”

“They’re gone okay. All of them. We have to accept that.” She forced David to meet her gaze, eyes imploring. “Whoever that is, it’s not Mom. We have to get rid of it so that it doesn’t tell _him_ where we are.”

David stood, his face sympathetic but there was a resolve in the set of his shoulders. He came over to his daughter and took hold of her shoulders. “Emma, I know you’re hurting. We’re all hurting. And if you think for one second that I don’t hate that thing they turned the woman I loved into then you don’t know me at all. But if there’s one thing this family has, it’s hope.” Emma scoffed. “Your mother would never give up on us and we can’t give up on her. I know she’s in there somewhere and I have to find her. That’s what this family does. We find each other. We just have to have hope.”

Emma raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze and glowering. “Fuck hope,” she said, breaking away from his grasp, but not before she saw his eyes close in dismay as he hung his head.

“We’re not killing her,” he said firmly.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Emma shouted, anger and frustration and exasperation wearing her down. She was so tired of living like this.

“We could question her,” Henry piped up beside her. All heads turned towards him. “Tie her up, keep her prisoner. Maybe she has information that can help us.”

“Henry,” Emma sighed, softer but still exhausted. “We’ve tried that, they don’t give up anything.”

“What about true love’s kiss? It’s the most powerful magic in the world!” he said his voice full of hope and Emma hated to crush it but she had to.

“It won’t work, kid. They don’t feel anything, they don’t care about anything. All they are is puppets, loyal to _him._ ”

“It’s worth a try,” David said. “We haven’t had a true love come back to any of us… that we know of.”

“I’m telling you it won’t work!” Emma insisted. “They have to love you back!” David bit his lip, fist clenching at the harsh words.

“Well it’s better than killing her!” Henry barked at before turning and stomping off up to the tower.

“Henry…” Emma called after him.

“Let him go,” David said.

“He has a point,” Ruby spoke. “Look I know we’ve tried before but what else can we do with her? We can try the kiss and if it doesn’t work we might as well see if we can get some information.” Emma still hesitated. “Do you really think killing Henry’s grandmother in front of him is a good idea?” Ruby argued.

Emma sank down on a step, her head heavy between her hands. She was silent for a long time. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”

David and Ruby set to work, the latter tearing strips out of an old shirt with too many holes in it to use as bindings as David gingerly lifted Snow and placed her still unresponsive body into the chair Henry had been occupying earlier. Once she was securely tied and relieved of all the weapons they could find on her, all they could do was wait.

It was nearly an hour before they heard a soft groan coming from the corner of the room. A look was passed between the three of them, David finally making the first move and walking cautiously over to the petite brunette.

“Snow?” her only answer was another groan but after a minute she raised her eyes to the group. In her gaze was exactly what Emma knew they would find: nothing. Cold, emptiness staring back at them through the shell that was her mother. “Do you know who I am?” David asked.

“Sure I do. You’re Prince _Charming_ ,” she spat sarcastically. “They told me all about you and the savior,” she sneered.

“You don’t know who we are to you, do you?” David said and Emma could hear the heartbreak in his voice. This is why this was a bad idea. This woman may look like Snow but she wasn’t the woman her father fell in love with and she didn’t have any shred of love for them or memory of them. Snow just looked at him blankly, uncaring. David let out a shaky breath and looked at his wife. Despite everything, Emma could still see the love he held for her pouring out of him as he spoke. “We’ve been here before you know,” he chuckled soflty. “I know you don’t remember me, but I can make you.”

Emma stumbled back as though she’d been hit. The words, a perfect echo of the ones that had been spoken to her so long ago, like a knife to her heart as a sea of memories flooded her. _An apartment in New York. A knock at the door. A familiar stranger. A kiss._ Emma had to turn away, tears welling up in her eyes as she watched her father lean in and kiss a woman who didn’t know who he was anymore.

She heard David cry out and whirled around to see him holding a hand to his bleeding lip. Snow sat glaring daggers at him. When his shock wore off David stood, chuckling. “I know you’re still in there.”

“Enough of this!” Emma stalked over, bracing her hands on the arms of the chair and looming over Snow. “Why is he doing this? _How_ is he doing this?” Snow just glared at her, mouth shut. “ANSWER ME!” Emma shouted. She was done with this. Done with pretending things weren’t as bad as they were to appease everyone else, sick of playing along with their vain belief that things would get better. This was their life now. There were four of them left in the whole damn town. It was going to be like this until they found him and killed him and even then it might not get better. She was done believing they would beat this new baddie and get everyone back. They were gone. All of them were gone.

Killian was gone.

It was the first time she’d let herself admit it. She’d gone to hell for him and it had only bought them six fucking months before he was taken away again. And she was done. She wanted this guy stopped. She wanted him dead and then she wanted to get her kid and get the hell out of Storybrooke and she wanted to leave it and all the monsters still inside of it burning in her rear-view mirror.

Snow didn’t answer. But she smirked. She fucking smirked and Emma lost it. Pushing herself back she let all the anger and the hate rush through her. She remembered her time as the dark one, remembered the feeling of dark magic singing in her veins. Magic is feeling. And right now she was feeling a hell of a lot more than she’d let herself feel in the last few months. Focusing on Snow she watched as the woman started to gasp for air and it only fueled her rage.

“Emma!” She could hear Ruby and David but it sounded far away, muted by the dull throbbing of blood and power rushing in her ears.

“ _Where is he_?”

She could see the life draining out of the woman, her mouth moving, trying to form sentences, and she concentrated harder. She felt David’s hand on her arm but she ignored it, consumed by her own magic, by the darkness.

“Mom!” The sound cut through the thick fog, snapping her out of her daze as she looked up to see Henry looking panicked as he ran down the stairs.

Snow gasped, heaving large gulps of air, coughing and laughing at the same time. The laugh brought Emma’s attention back to her. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Snow promised. Emma frowned.

“Mom! David! Ruby! They’re coming! They found us!”

Panic rushed through Emma. Heart racing and adrenaline replacing the magic that had been running through her veins. It was a trap. Of course it was a trap! They wouldn’t have sent her alone. She wouldn’t have gone in alone! They didn’t think like that! Stupid, stupid, Emma!

“Ruby!” The brunette faced her, serious and ready for orders. “Take Henry. Go wolf and get the hell out of here. Get as far as you can and keep him safe.”

Ruby nodded solemnly and took off her red cape.

“No, Mom! I want to stay with you!” Henry cried, sounding younger than he had in a long time.

“Henry, go!” Emma ordered, picking up a gun and tossing it to David. “We’ll hold them off as long as we can. Go with Ruby. Now!”

“But, Mom,” Henry was near tears.

“I’ll find you, Henry,” she promised. She made herself believe it so that he would. “Go.”

Henry backed away, not breaking her gaze as he picked up his and Ruby’s packs and climbed on the giant wolf’s back. They disappeared into the night.

Emma wasn’t sure what happened next. There was a sound, an explosion, louder than anything she’d ever heard before and a blinding light. One minute she was standing, hands raised ready to fight and the next she was on the ground, ears ringing. She lifted her head, a sharp pain shooting through it. “David?” she asked. Her voice sounded muffled and distant to her own ears. She finally saw him, lying unconscious under a bookshelf. His face was cut, his eye turning a purplish-red. Slowly, painfully she started to drag herself over to him through the debris and smoke and dust that filled the room. Every muscle in her body protested as she moved and she could feel a wet pain in her leg that was both cold and burning.

The click of heels echoed across the library floor as a pair of black boots emerged from the fog. They stopped beside her arm and one lifted to kick her over onto her back. Emma groaned in pain as she rolled, coming face to face with Regina standing over her. The woman turned to address someone behind her.

“Tell him we found her.”

And Emma could swear she saw a flash of leather and metal before the darkness overtook her.


	2. Chapter 2

I’m so sorry about how long it took for this chapter to happen. I’d like to say that the next update will be faster but I’ve learned not to make promises I can’t keep :P

 

A huge thank you to my lovely beta @lenfaz for all her advice and comments and for putting up with my constant questions and overuse of exclamation points!

 

Trigger warning: this chapter contains a brief passing reference to past self harm.

 

So without further ado…

 

 

 

_They’ve barely made it back from the cemetery before she has him pressed up against her bedroom door, her mouth on his and her hands roaming – touching him everywhere, anywhere she can reach. He’s alive. He’s actually alive and he’s here. Emma is frantic, barely registering Killian’s soft ‘umf’ as his back collides with the door behind him. Her fingers fumble with the zipper of his jacket. He’s still wearing the outfit he donned when he became the Dark One – when he_ died _as the Dark One – and she needs to get it off of him. She needs to erase the memory of it ever happening, of seeing him like that._

_“Emma, w-” he starts to say as her lips trail down his jaw to his neck, practically shoving the jacket off his shoulders, but she cuts him off with another kiss, this one no less frantic than the last, all teeth and tongue and desperation. She knows they should slow down, that they should wait. He must be exhausted – she’s exhausted – but she can’t. She lost him. God, she lost him twice in the span of a few days. Finding him in the Underworld only to have him ripped away from her again in that damn elevator… she needs to know he’s really back this time. She needs to feel him – feel his skin under her hands, feel him around her, inside of her – needs him to fill the void left by his death. The one that won’t go away even as she holds him and presses against him now._

_“Emma,” he says again, tearing his mouth away from hers. His hand comes up to cradle her face, his thumb stroking soothing lines across her cheekbone. For the first time since they got home Emma stops moving. Her hand frozen where it rests over his heart. She can feel it beating and while it should be reassuring, all she can feel is a growing dread that it could stop at any moment._

_“I just –” she can’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t know how – how to explain the overwhelming grief she’s been feeling since that night by the lake, the grief she can’t shake no matter how many times she reminds herself that it’s over – he’s here. He’s right here. “I need you,” she finishes, fingers bunching the material of his shirt and holding tight. She’s never been good with words but when she raises her eyes to his she knows that he understands. She sees his expression soften, empathy and kindness replacing confusion and concern. He nods._

_“Okay, love.” Emma nearly sobs as he wraps his hooked arm around her waist, steadying her. “Okay.” He brings his mouth down over hers, softer than her kisses, slower and filled with a different kind of desperation. He ducks down slightly to lift her and her hand finally leaves its place over his heart as she wraps herself around him and allows herself to be carried over to the bed, the panic slowly subsiding under his reverent touches._

_He seats himself on the bed, settling her in his lap as she forces her breathing to slow, mimicking his touches, their pace and their gentleness, until she no longer feels that her heart is going to burst out of her chest from the pain of everything she’s lost. Her fingers go to the buttons of his shirt, opening them one by one until she can push it off his shoulders and look at him – here, alive, with all his scars and his strengths. She lets her hands trace the scars that cover so much of his body – the ones she’s gotten to know so well since she met him. The thick, crescent shaped one that follows the curve of his shoulder, the thin white line that slashes down across his collarbone, the particularly painful jagged one that follows his rib._

_Her hand pauses, throat tightening as she reaches a new one – an angry red mark that slices down along the left side of his abdomen. The one she gave him. Something seizes around her heart as she’s assaulted with memories of that night – of running him through with Excalibur, of ending his life. Something settles in her chest but it doesn’t feel like a weight. It feels hollow – an empty piece of her that’s calling out to him – for a piece of his heart to fill it, a heart she doesn’t deserve. She killed him. She killed her true love and now –_

_“Stop it, love,” he murmurs. She can’t. The grief is crawling its way back, filling that empty space. His hand comes up to cover hers. “I know what you’re doing,” he says. “Stop it. It wasn’t your fault.”_

_A sound somewhere between a scoff and a sob breaks through from her chest. “It kind of was,” she says her voice hoarse and choked._

_“Emma,” he tries but she won’t look at him. “_ Emma. _” He sighs and takes her hand, bringing it up to a scar on his right side, near his kidney. “This one? I got it on my first mission with the Royal Navy. I went out with all the arrogance and foolishness of a young lad and was knocked down to size within minutes. If Liam hadn’t been there…. Well, either way, it taught me the importance of mastering my craft and made me the swordsman I am today.” He slides their hands until they settle on one on the inside of his forearm. “This one,” he pauses, swallows heavily and she can tell whatever he’s about to say is still painful for him. “It was after Liam died, when I no longer felt that life was worth living without him.” Emma’s eyes snap up to his, his words hitting her like a blow to the chest._

_“Killian….”_

_“But then I thought of what my brother would think and that he would want me to survive. So instead I decided to continue on and keep his memory alive by living my life the way he always did – as a man of honour.” He gives her a small smirk. “I may have slipped up a few times but I like to think I did him justice.”_

_Killian’s hand tightens over hers at the small watery smile she offers back and he slides their hands across to the large scar that slices down his side from underarm to hip. “This one I received in a raid when I put myself between Milah and a coward who attacked her turned back. And this one,” he continues, bringing her hand to a small white mark on the curve of his jaw, one that looks like what might have once been the imprint of a ring, “Milah gave me this one afterwards for doing something so stupid.” She can tell he’s quoting her and it brings a fond smile to her face, remembering the woman she met in the Underworld, a woman she could easily picture doing just that._

_“I don’t regret any of them, Swan. In some way each scar made me who I am today. And this one,” he places her hand over his newest mark and covers it with his own, “is no different. That night was the first time in my life I ever truly felt like a hero. The first time in a long time I did something so completely selfless. Of course I did it for you,” he starts and Emma tries to pull her hand away but he holds fast. “But I also did it for your family, for Henry and David and Snow and Robin… hell, even for Regina. I did it for the people I care about, because it was the right thing to do. And this scar,” he looks her in the eye then and she can see how much he believes what he’s saying, knows that he’s not just trying to appease her guilt. “It reminds me of the man I’ve become – one that Liam and Milah and my Swan could be proud of._

_And it’s all because of you. So please don’t tear yourself up over it. I couldn’t bear it.”_

_Tears are flowing freely down her face by the time he finishes his speech and Emma can’t think of anything to say to express everything she feels so instead she kisses him, long and deep, pouring everything she feels into the movement of her lips on his and the brush of her tongue against his own._

_“I love you,” she says when they part, pouring as much raw emotion as she can into those three insignificant sounding words. He looks at her then, with so much awe and adoration written across his face that it makes her heart jump._

_“I love you,” he tells her. And she knows it’s true. She can see it plainly in the way he gazes at her, like he can’t believe that he’s found her – that they’ve found each other – that they really get this. After all these years, little orphan Emma, a girl that meant nothing to anyone, is loved by a man who loves more fiercely and more unselfishly than anyone she’s ever met. This isn’t the happily ever after she always dreamed of – it’s so much better._

_She kisses him again, long and lazy. When they finally break apart she rests her forehead against his for a moment, her thumb tracing the scar on his cheek._

_“How did you get this one?” she asks, genuinely curious. He clears his throat uncomfortably._

_“That one’s… not important.”_

_She leans back to look at him and she can tell its embarrassment not guilt or shame or fear that’s making him uncomfortable – always so easy to read – and a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth._

_“How did you get it?” she presses._

_He sighs. “Any chance you’ll let this go if I refuse to tell you?”_

_“No.”_

_He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I was sixteen and watching Liam and all the other men on the ship shave. They could all boast full beards and I couldn’t yet grow a single hair on my chin but I thought I should give it a try… to fit in.”_

_A laugh bubbles out of her chest as she imagines an awkward, teenage Killian, barely older than Henry is now, copying everything his older brother did. As she giggles at his pouting face, it hits her suddenly that this is most carefree she’s felt since before Camelot. So she lets it take over, shaking her frame until she’s doubled over in his lap and there are new, happier tears running down her cheeks. Killian rolls his eyes before flipping them over so that she lands flat on her back, still giggling._

_“Are you quite done?” he asks but there’s no bite to his words, a small chuckle escaping him as well. She nods, biting her lip against the laughter bubbling just below the surface. “Good,” he says, both of them smiling through the kiss he leans down to press against her lips. Her arms come around his back and when he moves his lips to her neck, grinding his hips into the cradle of her open thighs she lets out a moan, her nails scraping down his back. He raises his head with a low groan._

_“Careful, love.” He says with a mischievous smirk. “You’re going to give me new stories to tell” Emma returns his grin, completely and incandescently happy._

_“Good.”_

***

 

Jesus her head hurt. Like really hurt. Like every hangover from every night of bad decisions she’d ever had rolled into one. Emma squeezed her eyes shut against the bright lights that were trying to force their way through her eyelids. She let out a groan, not ready to wake up yet.

 

“She’s awake.” Emma’s eyes snapped open at the voice. She immediately regretted the decision as the florescent lights on the ceiling sent a fresh shot of pain through her forehead. She knew that voice though. It was David. David! Oh thank god! He was alive! Emma thought as memories from the night before came flooding back to her. Had it been the night before? She could remember the explosion, could remember seeing David lying there unmoving, but then… nothing. But he was here. Had they gotten away? She scanned the room for her dad, relief flooding her when she saw him looking no worse for wear. He stood, tall and imposing as ever, looking off at someone on the other side of the room.

 

“Dad!” she urged him. “What happened? Where are Henry and Ruby? Did they –” her words were cut short when David turned to face her and her heart fell into her stomach. His expression was blank, cold, empty – no light behind the usually bright blue eyes she’d come to rely and depend on over the years. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, cold as ice, heart pounding. She was going to be sick. They got him. They got David.

 

Panic set in. If they had David that meant they had her. Who else did they get? Henry. Where was Henry? Adrenaline raging through her, she tried to leap to her feet, to get the hell out of here, to find Henry but she was thrown back onto the bed, her arms pulling her back.

 

“What the hell?” Emma looked down, finally taking in her surroundings and her situation. She was handcuffed. Both wrists tied to either side of what looked like a hospital bed. She waved a hand in an attempt to free herself but nothing happened. “What the _hell.”_ she repeated, turning her hand over. Why wasn’t her magic working? Then she saw the cuff. One of those anti-magic things that came in real handy when trying to subdue Storybrooke’s latest villain but seeing it on her own wrist sent a fresh wave of dread through her. They had her. She was trapped and she was powerless.

 

“Don’t fret, dearie! The handcuffs are only a precautionary measure!” Emma’s head whipped around to see the figure approaching her. Gold. Only, not Gold – Rumpelstiltskin. Emma had only ever seen him like this twice in her life, once in the Enchanted Forest and for months when he’d been swirling around in her head, tormenting her.

 

Emma sat up on her knees as best she could with her arms trapped at her sides, trying to look brave, intimidating even. “Then take them off,” she demanded. Gold let out a childlike giggle and Emma’s stomach turned.

 

“Not yet, Miss Swan!” He leaned in as though he were sharing a secret. “Though I like your courage!” He turned to the side, posing with his arms up like he was reciting something. “Watch out boys! This one’s got moxie!” he let out another giggle at his performance and then leaned in close again. “You and I have some business to discuss first.”

 

Yeah right. Like she was gonna make another fucking deal with the Dark One. Not in this lifetime.

 

“I don’t want any of your fucking deals, Gold. Now let me out of here.” Emma did her best to keep her voice level, squaring her shoulders, but she knew it was a long shot.

 

“Oh, you’re hardly in a position to make deals, dearie! Shall I catch you up on what you’ve missed so far?” Emma only glared at him and he smiled in that menacingly joyful way of his. “We found you and dear old daddy,” he started, wrapping an arm around David. Her father didn’t move or even acknowledge anything that was happening. He was like a zombie, a corpse. It was appropriate, that’s what he was now. He may as well be dead. “And Prince Charming here has valiantly decided to join our ranks,” Gold continued, bringing a hand to his heart and making a swooning gesture. “But you, well, you’re the real prize dearie! We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

 

Of course. Of fucking course they were. She was the Savior which meant she was always at the top of everyone’s kill-or-curse-first list. But Gold hadn’t mentioned Henry. That meant there was a chance he got away. She didn’t give a shit what they did to her if she was being honest. Not at this point. She’d lost everyone. David was the last and if Henry was with Ruby he’d be safe. Safer than he’d be with her – especially now that she knew they’d been hunting her. This whole time, she’d been putting her son in more danger than he needed to be and that thought felt like a punch in the gut. Henry was better off without her. Maybe he always had been. Being the Savior never brought anything but danger and death to the people around her. It was better that she was alone.

 

“Whatever you’re going to do to me, just get it over with,” she told Gold, not having the heart to keep fighting anymore.

 

“Do to you?” Gold said in disbelief. “We’re not going to _do_ anything to you!” he laughed it off as if it was ridiculous, as if he and his current master hadn’t already wiped out most of the town. “No, this is about what you’re going to do for the King,” he explained.

 

“I’m not doing anything for him!” Emma snapped. Rumple let out a peel of melodic laughter.

 

“Oh, but you will!” he promised. “You see, Miss Swan, what we need… is your heart,” he jabbed a clawed finger into the center of her chest. He loomed over her, tall and menacing despite his small frame, a dark, unhinged smile curling his lips and exposing his pointed teeth and for the first time Emma saw why he had been able to instil fear in the hearts of so many for so long. He reeked of power and strength, darkness oozing out of every pore and she could feel that darkness creeping into her own soul, snuffing out the light. He was terrifying.

 

“My heart?” she choked.

 

“Oh yes, dearie. The heart that belongs to the product of true love… well, that’s some powerful magic indeed.”

 

“But, it’s –” she started.

 

“Yes I know!” he interrupted, snapping back into his carefree persona so fast it made her head spin. “The Savior’s heart is non-removable. Protected by the power of true love and so on and so forth,” he mocked. “But every spell has a loophole!” he added gleefully. “And you’re going to figure out what yours is!”

 

“Me?” How was she going to figure it out? Gold had centuries of knowledge – hell, even Regina had a few decades on her. She was still getting the hang of _controlling_ her magic.

 

“Yes, you see something as dramatic as breaking a spell of true love demands light magic, something the Dark One doesn’t have access too,” he explained in his rhythmic, sing-song voice. “And Regina,” he paused, shrugging. “Well we cursed her before we realized we needed the light magic and as you know ‘magic is feeling’ – no emotions, no magic!”

 

“You want me to rip my own heart out and hand it over to you?” Was he out of his fucking mind? Like, more so than normal?

 

“It’s your heart, dearie! You have to figure it out! In all of my plentiful research that’s the one clause that keeps reappearing. Each spell is different but only the one it’s cast on can break it!” he continued unfazed. “Now,” he waved a hand and the handcuffs that held her prisoner vanished. “Charming here will escort you to your room.”

 

Right on cue, David stepped forward and grabbed hold of her arm and Emma flinched away. It was her father’s hand, the same callouses and scars earned over years of work on a farm and then of fighting with a sword. The same strong fingers and warm palm she’d felt wrapped around her shoulder or cradling her head when she really just needed her dad, when no one else really seemed to understand what she needed in a moment of uncertainty – but somehow he always did. But his grip was harsh, bruising even, as his fingers wrapped the whole way around her arm like a vice. It was aggressive, painful. She’d been grabbed like this before, by foster parents who wanted nothing to do with her, people who saw her as a paycheck and never looked at her with love or even compassion but rather with distaste, as a problem. Her father had never touched her like that, would never dream of it and Emma felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

 

“No!” she practically shouted, trying to jerk her arm away from this thing – this heartless, empty creature that was posing as her father – but his grip held firm and Emma swung her free hand around to swipe at his face. She landed a solid blow before he caught her other wrist. Emma roared in anger, struggling until she managed to free one hand and started swinging again. Despite the fire raging through her own blood, the imposter remained unfazed, barely flinching as she fought him, only reacting robotically and it only enraged her more! _Feel something!_ She wanted to scream. Anything. Get angry. Even anger was an emotion.

 

He swung his fist around so quickly Emma didn’t see it coming, the force of it knocking her right off the bed and onto the hard tile floor and Emma froze in shock as she landed, tasting blood in her mouth. She looked up into its cold, dead eyes. She was going to kill this thing. She got to her feet with rage-filled scream, lunging towards him, when suddenly her body was frozen.

 

“That’s quite enough of that, dearie,” she heard Rumple’s bored voice behind her. Emma tried to move but it was useless. Whatever spell he’d thrown at her kept her fixed in place. “Charming, why don’t you show our guest what’s behind curtain number one?” he lilted.

 

Again, not-David moved automatically, walking over to the hospital bed next to her own and drawing back the curtain. Emma’s heart sank. Her entire world crashing down around her. No. Anything but that. He was supposed to be safe.

 

“Henry.” Her voice was barely a whisper, broken and whimpering. Henry lay unmoving, tucked under the sheets and the scratchy hospital blanket. For all appearances he could have just been sleeping – face relaxed and unblemished like the countless other times she’d tucked him in and said goodnight when he was younger. But here… if they had him here that could only mean he was in danger. God, was he even breathing? Tears burned her unblinking eyes as she fought with every ounce of her strength to try take the few steps that separated her from her son. But Gold’s magic was stronger.

 

“Now then, will you do as you’re told?” he asked and Emma’s heart sank again. Leverage. They were going to use her son as fucking leverage. The King had better hope she never finds him because she would kill him if she did and she’d do it slowly. “I assure you, he’s quite alive,” Rumple interrupted her thoughts. “And still as much himself as you left him… Only asleep for the time being.” Emma swallowed, a small wave of relief flooding over her at the confirmation that he was alive.

 

“Okay,” she answered under her breath.

 

“What was that, dearie?”

 

“Okay,” she repeated louder, not even having the strength left to snap at him. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt him.”

 

Gold let out a maniacal chuckle. “Charming, take the young prince to his room,” he ordered and Henry was hoisted up over the other man’s shoulder and carried out into the hall. “Oh, and send in my puppet would you?” Gold called after him.

 

Emma didn’t think her heart could take any more and now she wasn’t even able to talk to Henry, to be sure he was okay, to explain why she was doing what she knew he would be against – what he would try to stop her from doing. He’d want her to fight, not to let them use him against her, to be a hero, to do the right thing – everything he believed in. But right now, in this moment she wasn’t a hero, or the Savior, or anything else that Henry would want her to be. She was a mother. _His_ mother. And she would do anything to keep him safe.

 

“Gold,” she pleaded. “Please, I know you’re being controlled – I _know_ how powerful the pull of the dagger is. But he’s your grandson. This is _Henry_. Neal’s son.” She saw him flinch the slightest bit at her words. It was a low blow but she needed to get through to him. “Let him go. Please. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll –”

 

“Ah, there he is!” Gold interrupted her. “Hello, puppet.”

 

Everything stopped. For a long moment Emma wasn’t sure she even breathed. She couldn’t remember how. After all this time… months of not knowing what had happened to him, not knowing if he was alive or dead, if he’d managed to escape or if… He was here. He was really here and for one small fleeting second Emma’s heart felt like it could finally beat again.

 

_Killian._

And then he turned his cold, expressionless eyes on hers and the last bit of hope and light that lived in Emma Swan flickered out. She fell to her knees, unable to hold herself up under the pain any longer. Those eyes, the ones that always looked at her with so much emotion, with so much love, always unable to hide how he was feeling as it painted itself so clearly across his face, looked at her with no recognition and Emma felt more alone now than she ever had in her life. She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she desperately tried to hold herself together – hold on to some piece of herself, some piece of him. Nothing, not losing him to death (twice), not his cruel words as the Dark One, not saying goodbye to him forever in the Underworld had hurt nearly as much as seeing the love of her life look at her as though she meant nothing to him.

 

“Oh, I do love a good twist!” Rumple jeered, twisting the knife in her heart just a little bit more. “Now, take Miss Swan to her room.” Killian took a step towards her and she reared her head up, jerking back.

 

“No!” she shouted. She couldn’t have him touch her. Not this empty version of him. She couldn’t take it. She’d suffered too much pain for one person today. Killian froze and looked at Gold who gave a quick shrug and a nod and Killian dropped his outstretched arm. She tried not to think of how much Killian would hate the idea of being under someone’s control, under _Gold’s_ control. He’d told her once about how it had ripped him apart to be a slave once again when Gold had his heart – told her stories of his time on Silver’s ship and the things the Captain and the crew made him do, curled around her as she stroked his hair and laid kisses on his chest. This would kill him. Maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t here anymore to know what was happening to him.

 

Emma struggled to her feet, worried that Gold would grow impatient and she’d have to suffer the touch of the ghost of the man she loved. Once she was standing, Killian turned and headed out the door and she followed behind him, shoulders heavy, feet shuffling.

 

“Good boy,” she heard Gold trill behind her. “And, Miss Swan, I’ll be seeing you soon!” Emma shot him a glare for Killian’s memory and he erupted into a fit of giggles.

 

The walk through the winding halls of the hospital felt like the longest Emma had ever taken – longer than any walk from a social worker’s van to the front door of her latest foster home, longer than the walk from the courtroom to the bailiff’s office with the words ‘guilty’ ringing in her ears, longer than the walk from the doors of a Boston prison to a little yellow bug that reminded her of everything that had been taken away from her.

 

Walking behind Killian Jones, not being able to touch him or speak to him or hold his hand in this moment when she needed his unwavering support and love and devotion more than ever before was killing her. She’d lost everything. Her parents, her friends – Henry was alive but if they ever got through this… he would hate her for what she’d done, for giving up, for giving in. He’d leave, she’d lose him too. And though it meant everything that he was still alive, having him walk away from her wouldn’t hurt any less.

 

She kept her pace a few steps behind his own. Close enough that he wouldn’t notice and think she was trying to get away but far enough that she wouldn’t find herself surrounded in everything that was Killian – his smell, the heat that always seemed to radiate off of him, the steady clunk of his boots with each stride against the linoleum floor, the shuffle of his jacket against the damn vest he always wore – that he was still wearing. He still smelled the same, like lazy mornings spent in bed, confessions of love and discrete touches whispered in large crowds, curling up in front of the fireplace listening to his stories. Like sun and salt and wind and leather.

 

She wondered if he’d still feel the same, if his skin would still be fiery hot under her touch regardless of snow or sunshine or rain, if his palms would still be rough and calloused with soft and sure fingertips. She wondered if he’d still flinch if she touched that spot on his neck, right below his ear, where she knew he was a bit ticklish but where she also knew she could drive him crazy if she put her mouth on it.

No. He wouldn’t.

 

The man in front of her wasn’t Killian – not anymore. Killian was gone. Killian was dead. He was really dead this time – no Underworld to drag him back from, no true love’s kiss to save him. This curse was unbreakable. She’d lost him forever. The great love story of Emma Swan and Killian Jones was over before it even got the chance to begin. She was torturing herself trying to believe any differently. She had to be strong. She had to forget about him and focus on Henry, on getting out of here, on getting him safe. But as her steps faltered just the smallest fraction she found herself wrapped up in him once again and what strength she had was overrun by grief and pain and loss. She hadn’t been able to save him. She hadn’t saved anyone. How could she save Henry? She’d lost every battle so far. She’d been right all those years ago. Emma Swan was no Savior.

 

They finally stopped in front of one of the cells in the psych ward. He opened a door and waited, obviously assuming she would get the point and just walk in on her own – no words, no gestures just cold silence. When she thought about it, he hadn’t spoken a word in the entire time she’d been around him – had Gold done something to him? Taken his voice away as part of some sick pleasure he was getting out of having the pirate as his play thing? The thought made her stomach turn. It struck her then that she hadn’t heard his voice in over two months and Emma wondered if it would it sound the same. Would it curl around her name the way it always had, since the day they met? She doubted it. So much of his voice came from his emotions, wrapped up in strong feelings, good or bad. He was always so prolific. It was jarring to see him like this now – silent, no witty comment or words of support. She didn’t want to hear him speak devoid of everything that made him sound like Killian – didn’t want to hear this imposter steal his voice but not his words.

 

_Stop it._ She told herself. It’s not him. He’s gone. Deal with it.

 

Emma walked into the cell that was usually reserved for Storybrooke’s biggest baddies and turned to watch the door slam shut. She listened to his footsteps as they echoed across the tiled floor, retreating until not a sound could be heard in the vast, empty halls of Storybrooke General. She was alone. Trapped. Helpless. She wanted to scream, bang on the door, demand to be set free, try the bars at the window, fucking Shawshank her way out of this damn prison cell. But she was so tired. She was just so tired. Of everything. Of the loss, of the pain, of the heartbreak – of trying. Trying and failing. Emma Swan was alone. And she was lost.

 

She sat herself on the thin mattress, laying on her side and curling her legs up into her chest. And for the first time in a long time, a lost girl cried herself to sleep.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone still out there?
> 
> I'm so sorry. It's been almost a year since my last update. I don't have any excuses except that this story is really hard for me to write because I just love it so much I'm afraid of it not living up to the story in my head and of disappointing all you lovely people who take the time to read it and leave comments or kudos. 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here's hoping you guys like this new chapter!

_Emma groans, rolling over on the bed and pulling the comforter over her face. It’s too early and the sun is too bright. Why, why, why did she forget to close the blinds last night? Oh, right, because a particular pirate decided to distract her as she was getting out of the shower before bed and thoroughly exhaust her beyond the point of remembering her own name, let alone something so menial as blinds. She wonders briefly if they gave anyone a show and smirks a bit at the thought. She hopes it was Grumpy. He deserves it for all the times he interrupted them._

_She stretches, feeling the burn in her limbs from last night’s exertions and sighs contentedly. It’s a good burn - a reminder - it feels like a brand, one she’ll gladly carry with her forever. Because they have forever now. No more death, no more Underworld, no curses or monsters hell bent on tearing them apart - just lazy Sunday mornings spent sleeping in, curled around her true love. It still surprises her that she’s able to do that. Less than a week ago she’d thought all her chances at happily ever after were gone forever - but he’d come back to her - like he always did._

_She reaches over to what’s become his side of the bed, wanting to feel his warmth and sturdiness, wrap herself around him and ignore the rest of the world today, but she freezes when her hand meets only cool sheets._

_“Killian?” She starts up, heart already racing as panic begins to build in her chest, tightening around her heart, constricting. Her eyes dart frantically around the room but there’s no sign of him. No. No no no no no. Not again. She just found him. He can’t be gone again. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. It couldn’t. She couldn’t take it. Where is he?_

_She jumps out of bed, barely remembering to throw her robe on as she runs to the bathroom. Empty. The panic tightens its hold. Thoughts flash through her mind a mile a minute. Images of monsters and evil gods and all sorts of darkness that could have taken him. Killian in pain. Killian suffering. Killian somewhere she can’t follow. She practically flies down the stairs, feet slipping on the steps as she stumbles into the kitchen._

_Her breath leaves her all at once, the tightness in her chest loosening so quickly she nearly faints from the lightness in her head. He’s there. Standing barefoot and shirtless in the middle of their kitchen, the muscles in his back moving and flexing as he pours hot chocolate from the saucepan on the stove into her favorite mug. He turns when he hears her come in - the commotion of it._

_“Swan,” he smiles, looking surprised but happy to see her. “I hoped to be back before you woke, what are you doing up so early?” Emma doesn’t answer, still too relieved to feel or think anything else except ‘_ he’s here _’. “Swan?” he says again, a question this time and a frown pulls at his brow. He steps forward, hand and hookless wrist on her arms as he tries to meet her eyes. “What’s the matter love?”_

_Emma sucks in a shaky breath, feeling stupid. He was just downstairs making her cocoa and here she was imagining he’d been taken again. She doesn’t want to tell him, but the way he’s looking at her, concerned and expectant, she knows she has to - that he won’t let it go. “I woke up and you weren’t there and I… panicked.” She looks at the floor, embarrassed at her overreaction._

_She glances back up when he’s silent and sees understanding and guilt wash over his face and she feels even worse. He’s the one who suffered a trauma and somehow he’s always the one comforting her. “Forgive me, love,” he says, pulling her into his arms, chin resting on her crown. “I didn’t think.”_

_She shakes her head, pulling back to look at him. “No. It’s silly. I just… I don’t think it’s really hit me yet that you’re here - that you’re safe - that we get this.”_

_His smile is affectionate. “Aye, me too.”_

_She buries her nose in the warm skin of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she sighs._

_“What for?” he asks, fingers running smoothly over her back, through the ends of her hair._

_“For being so desperate and needy.”_

_She can_ feel _the smirk on his face. His breath and the stubble around his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he speaks. “I like you desperate and needy.”_

_Emma rolls her eyes, giving his waist a pinch and he laughs. He leans back, fingers tracing her face as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “How about from now on, I wait for you to wake?”_

_“You don’t have to,” she says. She really wants him to. “You wake up so early.”_

_His grin is a bit mischievous this time. “Spending more time in bed with you is hardly a hardship, Swan,” he teases. Emma smiles despite herself. Seriously, how the hell did she get so lucky?_

_“Okay,” she nods. “But only until I get this under control.”_

_“Of course, love,” he smirks and she knows he’s placating her - placating her need to seem stronger than she really is right now. “In fact,” he moves in closer, backing her up against the island. There’s a heat in his eyes as his hand wanders to the knot of her dressing gown. “I think it would be best to return - to bed I mean. Most pressingly.”_

_Emma smiles ruefully as his deft fingers work the knot free, breath catching as his fingers skim the sliver of skin revealed. She drags her hand up his bare chest, fingers tangling in the hair there and tugging the way she knows he likes. He lets out a low groan._

_“I dunno,” she says. “Here seems pretty good.”_

_The look he gives her is downright sinful and she lets out a squeak of surprise as he hoists her up onto the countertop, the marble cold against her ass but his skin warm against her chest. He’s just worked his hand inside the opening of her robe when the door is flung open._

_“Mom!” Henry shouts and Hook is suddenly five feet away from her on the other side of the kitchen. Emma rushes to pull her robe closed and turns to face her son._

_“Hey, Kid,” she greets him but her face drops when she sees his panicked expression. “What’s the matter?”_

_“It’s mom,” he says. “I think something happened to her!”_

_“Woah, woah,” Emma says, stepping forward to take hold of his shoulders. Killian is suddenly there too, standing behind her and throwing Henry a concerned look.  “Slow down. Why do you think something happened to Regina?”_

_Henry takes a deep breath and reaches into his back pocket for a note. “She left.” He tells her, sounding a lot like the ten year old boy he used to be. “I woke up this morning and she was just gone and she left this note on her desk but it doesn’t seem right she wouldn’t just leave and -”_

_“All right, lad, have a seat,” Killian tells him leading Henry to a chair at the table before heading to the sink to fetch a glass of water. Emma takes the note from his hand and opens it, reading it over carefully._

_“It says she has to go away a while and she doesn’t know when she’ll be back. It says she needs time. That’s all it says.” Henry sounds panicked, desperate for her to make it all better and it kills her because she can’t._

_Emma throws Killian a wary glance as he returns with a glass of water and hands it to Henry with a simple ‘drink’. She hands Killian the note as Henry does as he’s told and Emma can slowly see the anxiety calm in his shaky limbs. ‘_ God dammit, Regina! Don’t do this to him again,’  _is all she can think as she crouches down to sit at eye-level with her son._

_“Henry,” Emma starts, brushing his bangs away from where they’ve fallen into his eyes. She notices the sweat caught in them. He must have run here. “Regina just lost Robin, she’s suffering…”_

_“But I can help her,” Henry insists sounding desperate and lost and Emma’s heart breaks._ He doesn’t deserve this, Regina _._

_“I know you can, Kid. But sometimes, people just need to heal on their own. It’s not forever.”_

_“Your mother’s right,” Killian chimes in. “I’ve only ever seen Regina lash out or retreat into herself when she suffers a loss. I can tell you from experience that it’s not easy for some to be vulnerable in front of others - especially those you love most.”_

_“Yeah,” Emma adds. “Remember when Robin left with Marian?” Henry nods. “Just give her some time to lick her wounds. She’ll come back around soon, you’ll see.”_

_Henry looks down at the glass in his hand for a long moment before finally letting all the air out of his lungs in one heaving sigh. He nods. “You’re right. I think I just… panicked because I’m so used to everything being a new threat.”_

_Killian smiles a little. “We’ve had some of that ourselves, my boy.”_

_Emma takes Henry’s head between her hands and kisses his forehead. “Not anymore, okay? That’s not gonna be our lives anymore. I’m not going to let it. You hear me? For now you’ll just live here with me and Killian and from now on I want the biggest stress in your life to be deciding whether you want to invite Violet or Grace to the Spring Fling.”_

_Henry rolls his eyes, pulling away. “Mom!” he groans and Emma smiles. So does he._

_“I mean it. No more monsters and curses. Normal teenage stuff only,” she says firmly._

_Henry stands. “I’ve got to get to grandma’s ‘Welcome to Storybrooke Pancake Breakfast,’” he tells her and Emma rises with him. Ah yes, that town-wide breakfast that Emma had managed to get out of because she was sick. So was Killian. Both of them horribly, terribly sick with a cold. And the flu. And something else surely._

_“Do you want a ride?”_

_“No, I’m good!” Henry insists a little too quickly._

_Emma smirks. “Oh yeah, isn’t Violet going to be there? She lives on the way doesn’t she? She’d probably be leaving right about now…”_

_“Bye, Mom,” Henry says firmly with every bit of teenage ‘oh-my-god-you’re-so-embarrassing’ that could possibly fit into two words. Emma laughs as he rushes out the door._

_She turns to Killian who stands looking pensively at the floor. “You’re awfully quiet,” she says, smirking. “You didn’t even jump at the chance to tease him about girls.” He continues to look at the floor, an expression between awestruck and frowning caught on his face. “Killian?” she asks again, worried._

_He looks up. “Sorry, what was that, love?”_

_Emma frowns. “Is everything okay with you?”_

_Killian hums. “Yes. It’s nothing. Just…” he trails off, looking at the floor again and Emma steps forward, brow furrowing further in concern._

_“Killian,” she insists._

_“You said… you said the boy could live with us. You said live with me and Killian.”_

_“Well, yeah,” Emma says, more confused now. “I’m not going to let a fourteen year old boy live on his own.”_

_“No, it’s not that,” he interrupts, finally looking up at her. “I just… I didn’t realise.” He’s awkward now, reaching up to scratch that spot behind his ear._

_“Realise what?” She prods._

_“That I lived here.” He finishes lamely and Emma’s heart sinks a little._ Oh.

 _“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t mean to imply… I mean if you don’t want to.” She’s at a loss for words. She’d just assumed. It’s only been a week since they got back but he’s spent every night here and he makes them breakfast in her kitchen in the mornings and she comes home to find him on her couch tinkering with some new gadget or other and she just…_ he _chose the damn house._

_“Of course I want to,” he says quickly, moving to pull her into his arms and Emma looks up at him, hopeful. “I just wanted to give you time and, well, we never spoke of it and…” He’s getting awkward again and Emma smiles affectionately at him._

_“Killian,” she cuts him off, hands on his chest. His eyes snap to hers. “Do you want to move in with me?” she asks him, very seriously. She can see the grin tugging at his lips but he manages to school his features into an equally serious expression._

_“Yes.”_

_“Good. Then it’s official. Killian Jones you now live here. In this house. That_ you _chose,” he nearly cracks a smile at that, “with me.”_

 _“Good,” he agrees. There’s a moment and then a huge, face-lighting, eye-crinkling smile spreads over his face before he scoops her up and swings her around in a circle in the middle of the kitchen._ Their kitchen.

_Emma squeals and laughs, grabbing on for dear life before he sets her down and presses a big, smacking kiss to her lips, one that has them both laughing as he does it again and again._

_When he finally pulls away, Emma pauses, looking at him and she’s taken aback for a moment by how much pure, unabashed joy she feels right now. She was right when she told Henry that it was time to get back to normal. No more monsters no more curses. Just her and her boyfriend and her son living happily in the home they’re going to build together._

_“What?” Killian asks when she’s silent._

_“Nothing,” she smiles. “I’m just… looking forward to the future - now that we get one.”_

_Killian smiles. “Aye, we’ve much to look forward to,” he promises before leaning in to kiss her again, this one full of joy and hope and love. Always love._

_“Come on then,” he says before bending down._

_Emma lets out a cry as she suddenly finds herself upside-down, thrown over his shoulder. She doesn’t even have time to be confused before he’s headed to the stairs._

_“What are you doing?” she practically shouts._

_“We’re christening the bed,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world._

_“We’ve already done that, you idiot!”_

_Killian lets out an affronted sound when she smacks his butt in annoyance. He turns his head and nips her thigh._

_“We’ve christened_ your _bed, Swan. Now we’re going to christen_ our _s.”_

_Emma shakes her head but smiles all the same as she lets him carry her the rest of the way up to their room. Stupid, ridiculous, childish, wonderful, bloody pirate._

Emma jumped as her cell door swung open. Her eyes were dry, out of tears and crusted from the ones she’s already shed. For one brief moment Emma didn’t remember where she was and later she’d wish she’d been awake enough to appreciate the fleeting, blissful ignorance before she heard the lilting voice that settled like a stone in her stomach.

“Rise and shine, dearie!”

Gold. Emma was suddenly very aware of where she was as the day before came rushing back. Gold, and David, and Henry, and… Killian. It was a moment before she saw him, lurking in the doorway behind Gold – Rumplestiltskin – whatever. He stood with his hand over his sword, ready to take action. Against her. Emma wanted to vomit as she was reminded again of everything Gold had done so far. He’d turned her father, taken Henry. Used her son as a fucking bargaining chip and turned what was left of Killian into his own personal slave - his puppet.  

She wanted to hurt him. Hurt someone for everything she’d been put through. What they’d all been put through. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t care if he was under the dagger’s influence. She’d given him a chance to do the right thing. Now she just wanted blood. She charged.

Everything after happened quickly. Gold took a step back until he was out of the room then suddenly Killian was there, blocking the door. She didn’t care. She’d take her anger out on that thing that had killed him if she couldn’t get Gold. Anything to quell the rage and the hate burning through her. She felt a shock hit her body. Like magic, a force, a blast, but painful. Like running face first into a brick wall, or an electric fence, and she was blown straight across the room. Her back collided with the wall as she slumped to the ground, head foggy for a second before she looked up at the door with confusion. A spell. Some kind of protection or imprisonment spell. She should have known.

She watched as Gold put a hand on Hook’s shoulder and his slave immediately relaxed his stance, stepping back and sheathing his sword. She hadn’t even noticed he’d drawn it. It hurt. To know he’d have killed her. No, not him. She had to stop thinking like that. She had to stop looking at him and seeing Killian. He wasn’t Killian. Killian was dead. This was just… a weapon. A sword at the King and Gold’s command – a hook.

It took Emma a moment to notice that Gold was holding something in his hand. The cuff. She looked at her wrist and then back at him. He grinned at her as she looked at her hands, fingers flexing as she felt the magic surging under her skin. He knew what she was thinking.

“Go ahead and try. See how far it takes you,” he trilled. She knew she shouldn’t. That this was obviously some kind of trick. The door was sealed. The whole room was probably sealed. But what if it wasn’t? What if he was testing her? It was stupid but she had to try.

Letting all of her anger and all of her hate build up into the center of her chest, she pushed it forward through her arms, into her hands as she let out a burst of magic the likes of which she hadn’t since she was in Camelot, the darkness and the light inside of her combining into one. Both were reduced to nothing as they hit the barrier.  _Stupid_.

Gold was grinning again. “If you’re quite done,” he began, mocking yellow eyes twinkling with amusement. “The room is sealed. But I’m sure you’ve figured that out.”

Emma glared at him. “Why’d you take the cuff off?” she demanded. Why give her back her magic?

Gold looked at her as though she’s missed something obvious. “Why, so that you can get to work of course!” he sing-songed. “We’ll be needing that heart of yours quick as you can, dearie!” Emma glared again and he giggled. “It’s quite ingenious, really,” he added. “The spell prevents you from leaving without the cuff on - no magic can come through. But you can use it to your heart’s content while you’re inside! Now tick-tock, Miss Swan, no time to waste!” And with that he waved his hand and stacks upon stacks of books appeared on the floor of her cell along with boxes full of ingredients and vials. “Oh, and should you need to leave the room for anything such as… the lavatory,” he added, handing the cuff over to Hook, “simply knock on the door and our dear captain here will return your cuff to you.”

 _What? No. No._  She didn’t want this thing standing outside her door. The reminder, being this close to him - not him - it would kill her. She couldn’t. This was sick. Gold was sick and he knew it. She could tell he knew by the self-satisfied smirk he shot her before he vanished in a puff of red smoke.

“GOLD!” she shouted after him. She ran out the door as it slammed shut in front of her. “GOLD, you son of a bitch! Get back here! Where’s Henry? Where’s my son? GOLD!” she screamed, hands gripping the bars of the small window in the door. She rattled them - fruitlessly - but she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while Henry was out there.

She banged on the door again. Screaming, cursing Gold’s name, cursing the King, cursing everyone and everything. She stepped back with rage burning through her, burning her up, feeding itself on her magic like fire on oxygen. “TELL ME WHERE MY SON IS OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL BE THE LAST FUCKING THING YOU EVER SEE! Do you hear me?” she screamed. “I’m not going to do what you want! I’m not your fucking experiment! WE AREN’T YOUR FUCKING PLAYTHINGS!”

She couldn’t have stopped it if she’d tried. It was like her magic took on a life of it’s own, surging out of her, out of every pore in a blast that made the whole room shake. She could see the flicker as the barrier took the blow, shuddering under it’s force. But it held strong. Emma collapsed on the floor, breathing heavy as she glared at the bars. Just barely, she saw the movement, the twitch of his head as it turned to look inside, his profile barely visible. Just the outline of a jaw, a cheek, a stupid pointed ear that she used to love. Her voice cracked as she spit the words at him.

“And you. What’s the fucking point of you, huh?” He turned back away from the window. “Are you just going to stay there and not say anything?” He didn’t move and Emma’s voice rose. “Why are you here? I can’t go anywhere so what’s the point? Why? Why you? Is this some kind of cruel joke on the King’s part? Is this how he gets his rocks off? Huh?” He was silent. “ANSWER ME!” she screamed, kicking the door. He didn’t even flinch and Emma felt tears well up in her eyes. Tears of anger. Tears of frustration. Of rage, of despair, and grief. “I just need to know,” she whimpered as the first fell hot down her cheeks. “I just need to know if he’s okay.”

There was a moment where the air hung heavy between them and she thought he might say something. Thought that maybe Killian would say something. If anyone could break through this curse it was him and Emma would have given anything for that to be true. She waited, holding her breath and willing him to say anything, to fight, to come back to her.

He walked away.

Emma’s heart broke more with every step that echoed through the empty hallway. Killian was dead. Killian was dead. Killian was dead. She repeated it to herself like a mantra. Praying it would finally sink in. That seeing that thing wearing his face would stop making her heart race and her throat burn with bile. Killian was dead. David was dead. Snow was dead. They all were. Henry… No. she couldn’t let herself think it. But he could be. They said he’d be okay if she did what they asked but what was their word worth? He could be and that though sent a numbness through her - one she hadn’t let herself feel yet. Not with any of the deaths. And she embraced it. The nothing. The nothing didn’t hurt. She’d felt it creeping around the edges for weeks, months since this all started and she just didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not when she was alone.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. She sat, staring at the florescent lights on the ceiling, laid out on the cold, cement floor. She didn’t hear the footsteps echoing through the halls again, faint and blending in with the buzzing of the lights and the humming of the pipes and the nothingness.

She heard a new sound though, loud like a rusty hinge being forced open. She looked up to see a tray being forced through what was basically a mail slot in the door.  It was dark out. No light coming through the window above her cot. It must have been hours then since she lay down.

She let her head fall back. She didn’t feel like eating. She didn’t feel like anything at all. But she felt the flutter in her stomach, a growl of hunger at the smell of whatever was being offered on the tray and she let her hand fall over the pang. With a sigh she sat up and walked the few steps to the door. She took the tray, barely registering her own actions, when she was met with resistance. He wasn’t letting go.

Emma looked up, meeting his - it’s - eyes through the bars in the darkness. The brows above them were pulled into a frown. His eyes flickered down to his hand like he couldn’t understand what he was doing, like it was hurting him. That wasn’t possible. They didn’t feel anything, didn’t think. His eyes met hers again and he released his grip on the tray. “The boy is safe.”

The tray clattered to the ground, glass shattering at her feet, food staining her shoes. Emma didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He’d spoken to her. For the first time in months. For the first time since she got here. He’d spoken to her. Not that thing -  _him_. She watched with her pulse racing in her throat as he turned his back to the door, resuming his post. No. No it couldn’t be him. She couldn’t let herself think that. This could all just be some play on the King or Gold’s part. But he’d looked so torn. And he’d spoken to her about Henry. He’d found out about Henry. For her. No.

 _Henry_. Henry was safe. She didn’t know what his answering her meant but she couldn’t focus on that now. She couldn’t let herself hope for that. Henry was safe, Henry was alive and now Emma had a purpose. She had to get them out of here. She would get them out of here no matter what it took. She had to focus. She couldn’t let herself feel or hope or want. She needed to think.

Emma turned to the books that Gold had left her. She would get them out. She’d find a way. There had to be something in the books. Some way to break the seal. She would save her son. She would save - no. But as she turned through the pages of the first book, trying to shake his words - his voice - from her mind, Emma felt  _something._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'm sorry about how incredibly long it's been since my last update. I'm out of excuses.
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments <3 They really inspire me to keep going.
> 
> Hope you like it!

_ “Two grilled cheeses, one with onion rings and one with salad!” Ruby calls behind her to the kitchen as Emma walks into Granny’s. They both make a face at the word ‘salad’.  _

 

_ “Are we that predictable already?” Emma asks her, coming up to sit on one of the bar stools and wait for her order.  _

 

_ Ruby smiles. “I mean you guys  _ do _ get lunch here every Friday…”  _

 

_ Emma smiles back awkwardly, wondering if they should cut back on the junk food a little. At least Killian always gets a salad - old habits and scurvy he’d told her once. But Emma can’t bring herself to sacrifice her onion rings. There’s something blasphemous about vegetables with grilled cheese. She worries sometimes though. She knows it's a small thing - getting take out every week from Granny’s - but it’s more than that. Since Killian joined her at the station as the new deputy, she worries. Worries that maybe this isn’t enough for him. That giving up a life on the sea for being a cop in a small town where nothing seems to happen (anymore anyway) is too dull - that he’ll get antsy and want to leave - want more - more than her. She knows he won't. She  _ knows _ it. But, well… old habits. _

 

_ “Hey,” Ruby says, reading her expression. “It’s nice. You guys have a routine. Nothing wrong with that. God knows you deserve it after all the hell you went through - literally.” Emma nods but she’s not totally convinced. “Emma,” she says and Emma forces herself to look at Ruby rather than her hands on the countertop. “You know he’s not going anywhere right?”  _

 

_ Emma hesitates for only a moment before nodding again - more sure this time. She does know. She just needs to keep reminding herself every now and then. He’s here to stay. He’s promised her as much countless times. “Thanks,” she tells her friend. Emma likes that, having friends. It’s new to her. She has a whole community really. Ever since they got back from the Underworld things have been… normal - not Storybrooke normal but actual normal - calm - and Emma has finally had the time to get to know the people she’s lived with for the past four years.  _

 

_ “Listen,” Ruby adds when she seems sure that Emma’s over whatever little inner crisis she just had. “I was talking to Henry last night…” She hesitates, like she’s unsure if she should bring up whatever she’s about to say. “He’s really worried about Regina. It’s been three months.” _

 

_ “I know.” Of course she knows. How could she not know that her son’s other mother took off three months ago without a word and hasn’t bothered to keep in touch beyond a few letters or texts to Henry letting him know that she’s alright and in New York or California or wherever “finding herself” and “healing”. Emma understands grief but this is a bit much. She has a child; she has responsibilities.  _

 

_ “I only mention it because he’s brought it up a few times and, well…” _

 

_ “Well what?” Emma prods. _

 

_ “I caught him trying to steal my car last night.” _

 

_ “What!?” Emma repeats, shocked. Henry did what!? Henry doesn’t do that kind of thing. Henry’s a good kid - her kid. Her kid who’s apparently headed down a path of grand theft auto. (Why the hell did David teach him to drive!?) Emma has a moment of panic that somewhere along the lines she gave him the impression that this was okay, that she’d failed him as a mother, at teaching him what’s right and what’s wrong. She’d stolen a car after all. She’d stolen lots of things. How could she not have noticed? How could she not have noticed that things were this bad? _

 

_ “It’s fine. He didn’t even get the thing unlocked,” Ruby reassures her. “I don’t think he’s turning to a life of crime,” she adds. “He told me… he told me he was going to go looking for his mom. He doesn’t believe that she’s really okay and just out there travelling.”  _

 

_ “He doesn’t?”  _

 

_ “That’s what he told me.” _

 

_ Emma lets out the breath she’d been holding since Ruby started speaking. Of course he doesn’t. Henry’s life for the past few years has been nothing but one crisis after another. He’s lived in fear and on edge for most of his pre-teen life. Of course he wouldn’t believe that his mother left willingly.  _

 

_ He doesn’t want to believe it, Emma realizes. She’s been there, rationalizing away people disappearing from her life. She remembers coming up with all sorts of reasons why they must have had to leave. Anything is better than admitting that they left you behind, that they abandoned you.  _

 

_ Henry’s hurting. She knew he was hurting but she didn’t know it was this bad. “Thanks, Ruby. I’ll talk to him,” she promises. And she will. She can’t do anything about Regina leaving but she can damn well make sure that Henry knows that the rest of the people in his life aren’t going anywhere - not her, not Killian, not David, or Mary Margaret, or any other surrogate parent he has in this town.  _

 

_ And she needs to step up. She’s been slacking on her mom duty lately and a flutter of shame flows through her. She’s been so caught up in her new routine, her new relationship, and her happiness that she hasn’t made the one-on-one time she should for Henry. Sure, he’s a teenager now and wants to spend most of his time with friends or on his phone but he’s been spending too many nights with his grandparents or Ruby while she and Killian play house.  _

 

_ “Hey, you’re a good mom,” Ruby assures her, as though she can read her thoughts. “With everything being so calm lately… I think a lot of us have forgotten how to deal with the issues that don’t involve monsters or villains.”  _

 

_ Emma nods but doesn’t feel any better. “Thanks for telling me. And for watching him so much lately,” she says as a cook hands Ruby a brown paper bag containing her and Killian’s lunch.  _

 

_ Ruby’s smile becomes a bit more mischievous then. “No problem. He’s a good kid. Besides, it’s good for you and Hook to have some alone time to… reconnect,” she says with a raised brow and Emma’s face flushes bright red at her tone - mostly because she’s not wrong. They've been doing a lot of ‘ _ reconnecting’ _ since Killian got back. She just wasn’t aware the whole town knew about it. _

 

_ Ruby laughs at her. “So, what’s it like?” _

 

_ “What’s what like?” Emma asks, eyes wide.  _

 

_ “Having a live-in boyfriend, having him at the station with you.” _

 

_ “It’s nice,” Emma says cautiously, wondering where this is going. It is nice. She didn’t know how it would work out - being together all day and then going home to the same house, but it’s, well… it’s perfect really.  _

 

_ Most days are slow and Emma gets to spend time playing cards or swapping stories with Killian and her dad. She loves watching them grow closer, the genuine friendship that’s developed between them makes her heart swell in the most amazing way. The same way it does when Killian and Henry come home with windswept hair and sunburnt cheeks after a day on the water or sword fighting. Or when they come home humming the same song after an afternoon of listening to music and talking in the park - something Henry has been inviting Killian to do more and more lately.  _

 

_ On the days where David isn’t there, Killian and Emma have taken to continuing an ongoing competition to see how much they can rile the other one up with wandering hands while they pass each other in the narrow halls of the evidence locker, or lips so close they nearly brush ears as they pour over case files together, before one of them breaks and jumps the other in the break room or the holding cell - or that one time on her desk. _

 

_ Some days there’s a little more action - a fight breaking out in a bar or chasing down vandals through the streets of Storybrooke. Those days, Emma keeps the images of Killian in the back of her mind - Killian breaking apart a brawl with surprising strength, Killian sweaty and panting after chasing a perp, or - most significantly, Killian using what she’s come to refer to as his ‘captain’s voice’ to strike fear into the hearts of grown men. She lets them play over and over in her head throughout the day until finally she gets him home and has him use that captain’s voice on her. A small smile pulls at her lips. Yeah. It's really nice. _

 

_ Emma grabs the bag from Ruby who’s grinning like the cheshire cat now. “What?” she demands.  _

 

_ “Nothing,” Ruby says innocently. “You just look a little tired. Late nights at the station?” she asks and the way she says it makes Emma go bright red again. _

 

_ “Shut up,” she mumbles, putting some money down on the counter and Ruby throws her head back laughing.  _

 

_ “Yeah, you better get going. I’d be in a hurry to get back to work too if I had that waiting for me,” Ruby teases her, leaning her elbow on the counter and laying her chin in her palm.  _

 

_ Emma, now definitely the colour of a tomato, turns to leave, only to nearly collide with Doc who comes storming up to the counter.  _

 

_ “Watch it,” he says and Emma is taken aback by the harsh tone of the usually kind man’s voice. “Coffee,” he tells Ruby without so much as a please or even a hello. Emma watches wide eyed as Ruby pours him a cup and accepts cash before Doc walks right back out the door without a word. _

 

_ “What the hell got into him?” Emma asks, staring after him. _

 

_ Ruby shrugs. “Lots of people have been acting weird lately,” she says dismissively. “Like I said. I think people just don’t know what to do with no crisis to obsess over. They’re going stir crazy in a small town. Maybe we should talk to your mom. She could probably organize some kind of event right? Or a committee? Give people something to do.”  _

 

_ “I think my mom would love that,” Emma says. She also can’t ignore the fact that giving Henry something to keep him busy might be a good idea as well - something that doesn’t involve criminal behaviour. She thought him learning to sail and sword fight was enough but maybe he needs something else - a club or a hobby.  _

 

_ She’s going to tell Ruby that she’ll ask Mary Margaret about it when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out only to open it and find a slew of messages coming in from Killian, asking if she can get back to the station early. Something about the phones and an overwhelming amount of calls and she knows he still has trouble with the landline. She frowns. It’s not like him to ask her to rush back. He’s always the one insisting she doesn’t take enough breaks, that she needs to take more time for herself. _

 

_ “I need to go,” she says. “Something’s up at the station.” She pockets her phone and heads for the door.  _

 

_ “Call me if you need anything!” Ruby says, her tone much more serious than it was a second ago. Emma waves at her in acknowledgement as she makes her way out the door.  _

 

_ Luckily, the station is only a five minute walk from Granny’s. When she arrives, she can hear the phone ringing off the hook before she even walks in. She makes her way into the office and finds Killian pacing by the desk, stopping every now and then to jab at buttons or pick up the phone, shout ‘hello’ and then hang it back up. She sets the paper bag down and approaches her flustered boyfriend.  _

 

_ “Hey,” she starts cautiously, glancing at all the flashing lights on the phone. “What’s going on?” _

 

_ “Swan! Thank god. That infernal machine hasn’t stopped shouting at me since you left.” He looks equal parts angry and defeated and Emma has to fight back a small smile at Killian’s ongoing battle with modern technology.  _

 

_ “Okay… You remember how to answer it right?” she asks and he gives her an exasperated look.  _

 

_ “Yes, Swan. I remember how to answer it. But I tried to put someone on hold because so many calls were coming in at once and then suddenly they were all on hold and I can’t answer any of them and it’s still ringing!” He looks about ready to introduce the phone to the wrong side of his hook.  _

 

_ “What are people calling about?” she asks, surprised by the volume of them.  _

 

_ “Ridiculous things. Pointless things.” She gives him a look. “I’m serious! I’ve had three calls from people telling me their cashier was rude to them and two from people telling me their neighbour ignored them.” _

 

_ “We can’t arrest people for being rude,” Emma answers. _

 

_ “That’s what I told them! It’s what I told all of them. But still. They keep calling.” _

 

_ She frowns. “Alright. Let’s see what we’re dealing with now.” She picks up the phone and presses a few buttons and suddenly all the flashing lights go away. Oops. Well, she might have just hung up on everyone at once but at least the phone stopped ringing?  _

 

_ Killian lets out a heavy sigh at the silence, looking extremely grateful. She’s about to make a comment about it when the phone suddenly starts ringing again. Killian lets his head fall back as Emma answers it. She frowns, then closes her eyes and says uh-huh a few times before finally telling the person on the other end of the line, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but that’s not really police business. Maybe you can try a marriage counsellor?” She hangs up and Killian is giving her a knowing look. “That was Mrs. Cobbler. She said her husband has been out all night lately and that he’s been distant.”  _

 

_ Killian nods. “They’ve all been like that.”  _

 

_ Emma frowns, thinking about what Ruby said earlier about people having trouble adjusting to the comparable dullness small town life. She reasons that that makes sense but there’s something pulling at her gut, something whispering what if it’s more? Could it be? Or is she just so used to her life being a non stop parade of crisis and horror that it’s just become a knee-jerk reaction now; her default setting is to assume the worst. She should ask Killian. He knows her better than she knows herself most of the time. He’d be able to tell her if she’s just panicking.  _

 

_ She’s about to ask him when the phone rings again. This time he answers it and his face quickly turns from annoyed to serious as he listens to the voice on the other end. “We’ll be right there,” he says before hanging up.  _

 

_ Emma’s already grabbing the keys as she asks him “where are we headed?” _

 

_ “The Rabbit Hole,” he tells her, throwing on his jacket. “That was the owner. A fight broke out.”  _

 

_ She frowns, glancing at her watch. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon!” Who could be drunk and fighting at one o’clock in the freaking afternoon? People really needed something to keep them busy.  _

 

_ “People are bored, love,” he tells her and Emma feels that swell of doubt and fear creep up again and she just knows he sees it because he catches her arm. “ _ People _ are bored. Not me,” he tells her, planting a quick, reassuring kiss on her lips. He smiles at her. “How could I possibly be bored when I get to break up a fight before lunch? It’s like being back on a ship again!” She smiles back at him and he signals for her to head out first. She hears him hum in appreciation behind her. “Getting to follow along behind the sheriff helps too,” he says. She glances back long enough to catch the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he unabashedly checks out her ass.  _

 

_ She smirks at him. “Yeah, well, just make sure you can keep up,” she answers and he grins, following her out the front door.  _

 

_ They’ve just gotten to the parking lot and are making their way to her bug when Emma spots David walking down main street, towards the center of town. That’s weird, she thinks. David told her that he and Mary Margaret were planning on spending the day at the beach with Neal since it’s the first day off David’s had in awhile. The beach is the other way and she’d think they’d be there by now... _

 

_ “David!” she calls but he doesn’t react. “Hey, Dad!” she tries again but he continues walking. Emma frowns. She swears he can hear her from where she’s standing. She sits in the driver’s seat, still frowning. _

 

_ “Everything alright?” Killian asks, looking at her with concern.  _

 

_ Emma shakes her head, trying to clear it. “Yeah, fine. Let’s go see what this fight is about.”  _

 

_ Killian hesitates for a second before reaching up and putting the siren on top of the car as Emma starts the engine.  _

  
  


Emma came to a decision last night. While she tossed and turned on her uncomfortable little cot, trying to come up with an escape plan, she was faced with the crushing realization that, as of now, she didn’t have one. She was stuck. Stuck in this stupid cell in this stupid hospital and stuck trying to figure out how to offer up her own heart to some asshole who called himself the Horned King. Yeah. The fucking antlered monster from that stupid movie with the talking pig. 

 

She didn’t have a way out. Not yet. But as she’d stared at the books that surrounded her in the darkness last night, the only light coming from the small flame she was producing and extinguishing over and over in her hand as she debated setting all the pages on fire just to piss off the King and Gold, she had a thought. She was surrounded by piles of tombs on all manner of spells and enchantments and  _ curses. _ Maybe, just maybe, there would be something in one of them. Something about the King or the curse he’d cast on the people she loved. 

 

Maybe she didn’t have a way out yet, but, maybe if she found something, when she did find a way out she’d be ready. Ready to take him down. Maybe here is where she needed to be. Here where she could use the resources she was given to finish the bastard once and for all. 

 

She had two purposes now. Find a way to stop the King, and get Henry out. That was always number one. Maybe she could bargain with Gold. Offer him something for Henry’s release. But he’d never go for it. She knew it. Henry was their only leverage. No, she’d have to get him out, get them both out. But until she could do that, she was going to make the best of this captivity and make sure that the first thing she did when she got out was kill the King. Slowly. 

 

She’d been pouring through books now for hours. At some point, a tray had been slid under her door so she knew it must be after noon but she hadn’t found anything. Nothing on the curse, nothing on the King, nothing on how to break this stupid magic-containment spell keeping her locked in this room. This was like Hades all over again, she thought. A villain so powerful that no earthly means seemed to be able to stop him. 

 

That’s when it hit her. Hades. They’d beat Hades by finding out his weakness, by reading his story. What if she could find the King’s story? Then maybe she could learn the source of his power and, more importantly, how to destroy it. She searched desperately through the piles of books, looking for the storybook, for  _ any _ storybook, but it was nowhere to be found. She threw a copy of “The Necromancer’s Guide to Life after Death” across the room in frustration before marching her way up to the door. 

 

“Hey! You!” She called. The Killian-shaped thing at the door turned its head only a fraction in acknowledgement. “Yeah, you. Tell Gold I need the storybook.” She made something up on the spot. “I think I remember a story about Cora and some heart stealing loopholes she had.” Killian would know that she was lying but this thing wouldn’t. She tried not to let that sting as much as it did.

 

He didn’t acknowledge her words or say anything in answer, but he walked off down the hall. Emma waited, heart racing and hands nearly shaking as she waited to see if Gold would buy her excuse. After what felt like ages, she heard footsteps returning and the storybook was shoved through the slot in the door. Emma rushed to pick it up and brought it back to her cot, tearing it open and desperately searching for anything that could help. 

 

She didn’t find anything. What she  _ did _ find was that stupid picture of her and Killian dancing at King Midas’ ball. The one that seemed to haunt her whenever she was at her lowest. The one that reminded her of everything she’d lost. She slammed the book shut and threw that one across the room too. She collapsed sideways on her cot, defeated. Fucking pointless. It was all fucking pointless.

 

Emma winced as something dug into her ribs. Annoyed, she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket, the same one she’d been wearing since she got here, since she was taken, and touched something familiar. 

 

_ Her phone. _

 

She was a fucking idiot. Her phone. Here she was relying on the books provided by the person who would be most invested in protecting the King’s identity when she had the unlimited resources of the internet in her pocket the whole time. 

 

She yanked it out desperately, thanking whatever gods were out there that it still had a charge. She picked up the nearest book, curling her knees up and resting it open against them, hiding her phone behind the pages like a teenager texting in class. She started her search. 

 

There wasn’t much. Apparently the Horned King’s movie didn’t do too well at the box office and it didn’t seem to pull from any fairytale. She searched for nearly an hour (making a point to turn the pages in the book in her lap every now and then so that her guard wouldn’t get suspicious of the silence) before she found something. It wasn’t much. A passing reference to a character from a fantasy series that seemed to be the inspiration for the Disney movie. It could be nothing but if this was it - if this was his story… it could be everything. 

 

Emma nearly cried out in anger as her phone flashed low battery a second before the screen went black. Of course. She let herself flop back on her mattress. She didn’t know how many more let downs she could take. She was so tired. Tired and annoyed and frustrated and… lonely. She hated to admit it but it was true. This whole solitary confinement thing was starting to make her feel a little “yellow wallpaper” and this latest defeat just made it more unbearable. She just wanted to hear something other than the pages turning in her book and her own breathing. 

 

“Don’t you get bored just standing there?” she heard herself asking before she’d even thought about what she was doing. There wasn’t an answer. She didn’t expect one but even hearing her own voice was something - better than the deafening silence anyway. “Or do you not feel boredom?” she continued, the sound of her voice echoing against the stone walls. “Is bored an emotion? I know you guys don’t do emotions. I don’t know if boredom counts though.” She just kept talking. “I wonder if the King feels anything. Is that why he cast this curse? Because he doesn’t have a heart or a soul or whatever? Is it some kind of Voldemort complex?” 

 

Emma rolled over onto her side, noticing the book she’d thrown most recently. It was a book of potions and the subject intrigued her. She didn’t know much about potions - all her magic came from inside of her - she’d never really done much of the ‘bubble bubble toil and trouble’ part of it. She walked over and picked up the book, leafing through it and making faces at the ingredients listed in some of the recipes. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbled as she read one particularly nasty one. “Did you know that to make yourself look younger you can drink a combination of pig warts, ground baby teeth, and unicorn dung?” she felt her stomach roll. The thing on the other side of the door didn’t answer. She imagined what Killian’s answer would have been. She could just picture his disgust as she teased him about alternative options to curses and Neverland. She smiled a bit as she remembered the morning he’d discovered a grey hair in his beard and she’d had to convince him not to shave it off completely by showing him  _ exactly _ how fond she was of the whole ‘silver fox’ thing. 

 

She stopped herself. That wouldn’t do any good. She had to stop remembering him. He was gone. That thing outside the door wasn’t him and it wouldn’t tease her back or feel any disgust over weird potions or distress over aging. She went back to her cot again, laying back and staring up at the small, barred window that stood above it. 

 

That’s when she saw it. Something moved outside. Something big. She waited, holding her breath until she saw it again. It was an animal. A wolf.  _ Ruby.  _ Ruby was alive! Holy shit! She stood up on her cot, just able to reach her nose over the windowsill. Ruby was getting further away. She didn't know Emma was there. She had to get her attention.

 

“You know, there’s some other stuff in here too,” she began making up, hoping not-Killian would assume she was still just talking to him and praying that Ruby’s wolf ears would pick up her voice. “Uh, something about shape shifting. Like you can turn into a wolf.” She watched as Ruby paused, ears pricking up. She looked around desperately at the ground outside. The base of the window was level with the grass. Nearby, she spotted some blue and yellow flowers growing along the wall. “It’s pretty easy to find the ingredients too. Just some forget-me-nots and dandelions.” The wolf turned, coming back towards her cell and Emma’s heart soared. Ruby searched, spotting the flowers growing. “Yeah, they’re not hard to find at all - really close actually… lots of them  _ left _ this time of year.”

 

And suddenly, Ruby’s nose was right at the bars and Emma’s eyes burned with tears of relief as she saw the recognition in her friend’s yellow eyes. She was alive. She was alive and she was herself. Emma held a finger up to her lips, pointing to the door and Ruby lay down on the grass by the bars. “Oh, this part’s kind of interesting,” she said dismissively, hoping Ruby could read her expression and hear the hidden meaning in her words. “It says that for the spell to be permanent, the one who wants to use the wolf-shape-shifting-spell-thing…” she continued, cringing at her own words, “has to find the witch or wizard’s firstborn son - or daughter!” she added quickly. She doubted he was even listening but she couldn’t risk him understanding. “And watch over them… while they… pick the flowers,” she finished lamely. 

 

Ruby looked at her and then she nodded. Or at least Emma thought she nodded. She’d never really seen a wolf nod before but that was what it looked like. She returned it and Ruby took off, nose to the ground as she searched for what Emma could only assume and hope was Henry’s scent. 

 

Hope. There it was again. When she’d woken up this morning she’d been without hope of getting out of here but now - with Ruby’s help - maybe they had a chance. She felt hopeful. She felt capable and brave and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste. 

 

“Hey!” She shouted, coming up to the door. “I want to see Gold. Bring me to him.” 

 

There was a second of silence before the cuff was slipped through the slot. Emma put it on and banged twice on the heavy metal door.

 

The door opened and Emma steeled herself against the pain of seeing Killian’s face staring at her with blank eyes. She wondered if it would stop hurting eventually. She needed to believe that it would. 

 

Still without a word, the imposter took hold of her shoulder and began leading her down the hall. She tried to shake off his grip, the pressure of his hand through her jacket making her feel sick to her stomach. His hold was too tight, too severe. She hated him. But he held firm and Emma resigned, aware that without her magic his strength outweighed her own.

 

She let herself be led to a room where she presumed Gold was waiting. Her guard knocked and waited for a cold, impish voice to beckon them in before opening the door. Emma looked around. She snorted. It seemed Gold had taken up the former chief of surgery’s office and turned it into some kind of throne room. It reminded her of his castle in the enchanted forest when she’d gone back in time with Killian. Various objects were scattered around the room - some she recognized from his shop, some she didn’t. He had spell books open on his desk and Emma wondered if he was still looking for a way to remove her heart.

 

“Miss Swan,” he chimed as she walked in. “I can’t imagine you’ve come to tell me you’ve already succeeded.” Emma only glared at him. Yeah, she wasn’t in any rush. “Tell me, did the storybook prove helpful?” he asked, almost conversationally and a part of her wondered if he knew what she’d been up to and had allowed her the book only to revel in her disappointment.

 

She took a deep breath and made herself as tall as possible. “I want to see Henry.” 

 

Gold looked at her, his expression a mix of curiosity and mirth. “Do you now? And what do you possibly think would persuade me to allow that?” 

 

“I need to know he’s okay.”

 

“He’s fine,” Gold said dismissively. 

 

“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” she demanded, her anger getting the best of her.

 

“You have no other choice,” Gold told her, waving a hand at his puppet to lead her away. The hand on her shoulder started to drag her back but she fought it off, thrashing under the grip. 

 

“I won’t do what you want me to!” She said, desperately. Gold paused, looking her over. “I won’t figure out the spell unless you let me make sure he’s okay. Once a day. If you want my heart, that’s the deal.”

 

“But we’ve already made a deal,” he reminded her. “You’ll do it, or we’ll kill him,” Gold said as if the threat itself didn’t rip her heart out of her chest for her. 

 

She breathed deep, reigning in the panic and the fear and the desperation and hiding it all behind her best poker face, behind the indifference she needed to make Gold believe her, the indifference she’d developed after watching her family become creatures she felt no pain in ridding the earth of. “Then you won’t have any leverage.” 

 

Gold looked at her for a long time. His yellow eyes seemed to force her own to stay locked on him and she felt like Mogli looking into the eyes of the snake, mesmerized, terrified, and trapped. He held all the power here. If he called her bluff she wouldn’t get to see Henry - wouldn’t know if he was alright or if he was scared and hurt. Or, even worse, Gold could call her bluff and kill Henry. She prayed that some part of him, some small part that was still Baelfire’s father and not the Dark One wouldn’t be able to bring himself to kill his own grandson. 

 

Finally, he looked away, turning his gaze to the imposter beside her. “Take her to the boy,” he said flippantly. “Far be it from me to keep family apart,” he added and something in his tone sounded like a challenge. Emma didn’t know what the challenge was but she hoped she could face it when the time came. 

 

The hand was back on her shoulder again and this time she let herself be led away. They didn’t walk far. They made their way up a set of stairs to the children’s ward. They stopped outside what looked like a playroom and her prison guard stopped her in front of the door. 

 

“Three minutes,” he told her before opening the door. Emma stepped forward, heart swelling with the anticipation of seeing her son. She’d barely made it through the threshold when she had to duck to avoid a marble flying by her head. It hit the wall behind her with a sharp ping. She looked up shocked to see Henry sitting on a hospital bed holding a makeshift slingshot built out of what looked like lego, train track pieces, and some kind of rubber. His expression reflected her shock when he recognized her. 

 

“Nice shot, kid,” she told him, barely holding back the tears in her eyes. She hadn’t been this relieved to see him since he’d found her in that tower so long ago. 

 

“Mom!” he shouted, flinging himself off the bed and throwing himself into her arms. She stumbled back with the force of her nearly-grown son colliding with her chest, her shoulders bumping the door shut in the process. She was surprised when it remained closed. 

 

“Hey,” was all she could manage to say, squeezing him as tightly as she could. The tears fell freely now and she just let herself enjoy the feel of him wrapped in her arms, his chin digging into her shoulder and his arms crushing her ribcage. “Are you okay?” she asked, voice cracking. She felt him nod against her shoulder before pulling back slightly. She took his face in her hands and looked him over quickly. He looked okay. He looked tired but healthy. He was in a room with books and toys and he was clearly able to defend himself if the slingshot was anything to go by.  _ That’s my kid _ she thought proudly. 

 

“Mom,” he whispered, casting an eye at the door, “Ruby’s here.” 

 

Her heart swelled in relief knowing that Ruby had found him. “I know.”

 

“The guards don’t notice her. They only know to look for people so they don’t care about a wolf,” he continued in a hushed tone. “It’s just like Sirius Black and the dementors!” he added a little excitedly and Emma couldn’t help but smile a little bit. 

 

“Listen, kid, we don’t have long, okay?” She had a million things to ask him, to tell him - she wanted to spend an hour just holding on to him. But they only had three minutes and she knew that if anyone would be able to find out more about the Horned King it was Henry. She brought her own voice down to a whisper as she told him what she’d discovered earlier, told him about the book series and a creature with an army of living dead. 

 

Henry’s eyes lit up in excitement as she spoke and she had to shush him as he answered her. “I think I’ve read that series!” he exclaimed before bringing his voice back down to a whisper. “It was a long time ago but if he’s who I think he is…” Henry looked around frantically, trying to recall details before his eyes widened even more. “Mom, I think he can shapeshift. That explains people acting acting so weird in the beginning - well that and the cursed sleeper-cell agents. Maybe he was pretending to be them.” Emma stared at her son in amazement and pride, remembering an event months ago with David outside the station. “We should think of a code!” he said suddenly. “Something so that we know it’s really us. Just in case.”

 

Emma looked at him for a moment, trying to think. Suddenly it dawned on her. “When we were in New York, that year we were cursed, what video game could you never beat me at?” She smirked a little as Henry rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

 

“GoldenEye” He looked at her a bit snarkily. “What movie did you make me watch a hundred times because you didn’t want to watch it alone and didn’t want anyone else to know how much you loved it?”

 

_ She _ rolled her eyes this time. “The Princess Bride.” 

 

Henry nodded. “Okay so when you see me say ‘Princess Bride’ and if I don’t answer ‘GoldenEye’ then we know. Operation: New York,” he said with a small grin. 

 

Emma let out a sob as she wrapped him up in her arms, just needing to hold on to him for as long as she could. He may have grown up a lot in the past four years, especially in these last few months, but underneath it all, he was still that same infuriatingly-optimistic, brilliant kid who had found her all those years ago. 

 

The door opened then and a familiar voice called, “Time’s up.” 

 

Emma whirled around, rage in her eyes and in her blood as a fierce protectiveness came over her. “Just give us a minute!” she shouted. She didn’t want him near them. Didn’t want this thing coming anywhere near her or Henry and spoiling this moment. She didn’t want Henry to see the man he’d grown to care for as a father look at her with those cold, empty eyes that had broken her heart so many times already. 

 

She watched in shock as those same eyes stared at her, the hand that had reached out to grab her, to pull her and Henry apart paused in mid air. He frowned, looking at her, then the ground, then his hand, his whole face pulling into a pained grimace. Slowly, the fingers that he held extended curled in one by one, his arm dropping back to his side as he continued to stare at her, his brow twisted in something she couldn’t read. Emma felt trapped under a gaze for the second time that day. He didn’t look emotional, it looked like a physical pain. Like stopping hurt him. Her heart stuttered in her chest, her mind flashing back to his hand squeezing her wrist so hard it hurt in the middle of Granny’s diner.  _ No. _ She couldn’t let herself think like that. She just couldn’t. If she did and she was wrong. No. 

 

She didn’t know how long this weird compliance would last so she turned quickly back to Henry who was staring at the man who used to be Killian with shock and a little bit of heartbreak. “I love you, Henry,” she told him, hugging him one more time. She turned her head so that she could whisper in his ear, low enough so that only he could hear. “I’ll get us out of here, I promise.”

 

“I know,” he answered and Emma wasn’t sure if it was her tears or his that were soaking her hair to her cheeks but she didn’t care. 

 

She pulled back, kissing his forehead and telling him she’d be back tomorrow before she turned back to her guard. He looked physically relieved as she let him lead her back to her cell. 

 

As Emma walked, the hand on her shoulder felt lighter and she chalked it up to her newfound sense of purpose - purpose and hope. She wasn’t alone. She had Henry and she had Ruby and together, they could do this. They would get out. She just needed to hold on to those two words Henry had said. “I know.” If he believed in her, believed in them, after all of this, then she had to believe in them too. 


End file.
